


you make me (lovesick)

by mauvesaidwill (23seok)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fever, M/M, Sick Character, Some Humor, mentions of hunk and allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/23seok/pseuds/mauvesaidwill
Summary: Lance gets sick, and Keith takes care of him. Simple as that.





	you make me (lovesick)

**Author's Note:**

> ok this is so blegh it's just that i'm sick (strep is fun amirite) and i wanted to write abt my boys and them taking care of each other b/c they are in loooooove , but srsly literally all i've done is lay in bed and listen to bts while making a lot of half-assed attempts @ writing oh ya also there's like two curse words so that's why i made it t lmao
> 
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“I’m cold,” Lance says to Keith, staring at him meekly under a pile of blankets.

“You have every blanket in the entire house,” Keith replies.

“But still,” Lance whines, and Keith sighs before going to the closet and grabbing one of Lance’s hoodies.

“Put this on,” he tells the other man.

Lance nods and sits up, struggling somewhat by the giant mass of blankets atop him, before taking the hoodie from Keith’s hands and pulling it on over his old t-shirt.

Keith sighs and pats his head before walking out.

-

Less than half an hour later, Keith is walking into Lance’s room, bowl of soup in hand, ready to ask if he’s still cold, when he sees Lance has managed to strip down to his briefs and sprawled himself out on the floor.

“Dude,” Keith says, digging his toe into Lance’s side.

Lance lets out a groan of discomfort before blinking open his eyes. “I’m trying to sleep, but it’s so hot.”

“You said it’s too cold, like, ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, _ten minutes ago_ ,” Lance responds, rolling onto his back to look up at Keith. “It got too hot.”

“So you kicked off all your blankets and decided to forego clothes and your bed?” Keith asks, setting the bowl of soup down next to Lance. “Brought you this, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lance says before staring at the soup, making a face, then looking away.

“What now?” Keith asks because _damn_ —he knew Lance could be needy at times, but not this needy.

“I feel nauseous,” Lane whines. “The soup makes me feel all hot and gross.”

“It’s good for you, though,” Keith says.

“I kno-o-o-o-o-ow,” Lance replies, “but it’s so hot.”

“Just eat the soup,” Keith orders.

“Can you turn on my fan, then?” Lance asks.

“Ugh,” Keith says, making his way over to the light/fan switch, “yeah, whatever.”

“You’re amazing,” Lance tells him.

“Yeah,” Keith says again, “whatever.”

-

“Okay,” Lance says, walking into the living room in a hoodie and what Keith is pretty sure are his shortest pair of running shorts before flopping down onto the couch, “I think I’m good to go.”

“Really?” Keith asks.

“Yeah,” Lance answers. “I get over illnesses quick.”

“Right,” Keith says.

“I’m serious,” Lance whines, poking at Keith’s side. “It’s like… I’m sick, and then _boom_ not sick.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith nods.

“Keith,” Lance says, “this is one hundred percent true.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Keith tells him.

Lance scrunches his nose up. “What do you mean ‘when’ you—”

But then his face is scrunching up for a totally different reason, and he’s running to the bathroom.

Keith follows a couple seconds later to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and press a cool hand to the back of his neck as he dry heaves over the toilet.

“This is what I mean,” Keith says.

Lance grabs a ratty washcloth off the side of the bathroom counter to wipe his mouth.

“I hate you,” he says.

Keith rolls his eyes, patting Lance’s head as he coughs up some mucus. “No, you don’t.”

-

“Don’t even think about coming near my room tonight,” Keith says as he tucks Lance back into his bed. “I’m not risking it.”

“But, _Keith_ ,” Lance says, dragging out his name, “you’ve already been exposed to it! Surely you can handle it now.”

“Maybe,” Keith replies, causing Lance to perk up. “But I’m not risking it,” Keith continues, causing Lance to deflate.

“Prove to me you’re over this sickness,” Keith says, “then maybe.” He runs his fingers through Lance’s hair once more. “But until then, wait at least a day before sleeping in my bed.”

“But you love my cuddles!” Lance cries.

“Yes,” Keith admits, making Lance smile, “but not when you’re sick.”

“You’re the worst,” Lance tells him.

“I know,” Keith replies with a smile before giving Lance some ibuprofen and leaving the room.

-

He doesn’t get a wink of sleep. First off, Lance is snoring as loud as he can, and when he isn’t, he’s rummaging around the kitchen, turning on the tap, opening and closing the fridge, and setting glasses down on counters. It’s so loud. Second of all, he’s worried. Lance has been doing relatively okay, but sometimes his temperature will strike at alarming heights then settle to a low fever of 99°F. It’s only happened twice, but it still causes concern to climb up Keith’s throat.

“Lance?” Keith calls into the dark hallway when he hears some muffled footsteps then an “oof”. “Are you alright?”

He flips on the lights to see Lance wrapped in a blanket, giant cup filled with water, cheeks flushed, and ruddy indents on his cheek.

His boyfriend shoots him a smile after calming down. “Sorry, stubbed my toe.”

“Maybe you can try getting more sleep?” Keith asks. “Instead of getting up every two seconds?”

“Shoot,” Lance breathes. “Sorry. Have I been waking you up?”

“More like I never fell asleep in the first place,” Keith grumbles, crossing his arms before moving to place a consoling hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?”

Lance shrugs. “Kind of. I don’t know.” He takes a large gulp of water. “I’ll probably be fine before lunch.”

Keith stares at him, hand sliding up from his shoulder to his neck for his thumb to brush over the creases in his cheek. “Alright then. Night?”

Lance angles his face to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb before smiling, teeth rubbing slightly on the skin. “Night,” he says, leaning back.

-

Morning comes silently after that. Keith sits up in bed, light filtering in the tiniest bit through his closed blinds. His ceiling fan swirls lazily overhead, and his t-shirt clings to his skin the slightest bit, as if Keith had managed to sweat enough during the night but then stopped come morning, leaving time to dry the tiniest bit.

Keith makes a face and pulls off his t-shirt as he climbs out of bed before poking his head into Lance’s room to see the other out cold. Keith smiles as he turns to go to the bathroom.

The water feels nice on his skin before becoming suffocating as more steam gathers, and Keith lets out a breath as he lowers the temperature. Eventually, he steps out of the shower and throws on a tank top and shorts before padding into the kitchen in search of something to make for breakfast.

Halfway through pouring some cereal into a bowl (already filled with milk because Keith knows it’ll piss Lance off, a sour expression overtaking the other’s features when Keith tells him what he’s done), Keith hears the shower turn on, then a half-performed, half-mumbled version of Hairspray, then the sound of a blow dryer before Lance makes his way into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Keith says, gathering more cereal onto his spoon.

Lance gives him a bright smile before plopping into the chair next to him. “Breakfast again? Thanks, babe, you’re the best!”

“It’s too early for your sarcasm, Lance,” Keith responds. “Not to mention this is on you. You’re the one who forgot to get the right groceries.”

“Look, man,” Lance says, pointing his spoon at the other, “Hunk had something important for me; I had to go.”

“No, he didn’t,” Keith argues. “He called me five minutes after you left to tell me that all he did was finish coloring Allura’s hair. And then she posted that on Instagram, like, two minutes later.”

“Not the same,” Lance states, but he shoves a spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth anyways, signifying that he’s lost the argument.

Keith smiles sweetly before drumming his fingers on the table. “So you’re good?”

“This time?” Lance asks.

Keith nods.

Lance stares at him before turning around to cough then turning back around to wipe his hand on a napkin. “That was fine. I’m good.”

Keith nods again before running his fingers along the edge of his bowl. “So since you didn’t get the right groceries… and since I’ve had to do all the work for the past two days… and because you love me… Lance?” He taps his spoon on the inside of the bowl.

Lance groans. “Dude, I just got over being sick. Please.”

“It’s just the dishes,” Keith retorts.

“It’s never _just the dishes_ ,” Lance declares.

“Okay, fine,” Keith agrees, “it’s the dishes and disinfecting the house because you’ve managed to touch everything while sick. Such a chore.”

“Keith, please,” Lance whines.

“No way,” Keith replies.

And then coughs.

And coughs some more.

And then stares at Lance with wide eyes.

“No way,” Lance says.

Keith puts a hand to his forehead.

“I’ll just get the advil,” Lance decides, already standing to get that and the thermometer.

-

“Lance!” Keith shouts, eyes peeking out from under the large mass of blankets he’s managed to acquire in the past thirty minutes.

“Yeah?” Lance asks, walking into his room.

“I’m cold,” Keith says.

Lance groans.

-

Twenty minutes later and Keith finds himself on the floor, blankets strewn about the room, along with his socks, shirt, and pants.

“Dude,” Lance says when he enters Keith’s room.

“It was too hot,” Keith replies.

“I swear if you’re doing this just to get back at me,” Lance grumbles.

Keith lets out another bout of coughs.

“Oh, man,” Lance sighs. “I’ll get some more medicine.”

**Author's Note:**

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